The Founding Monarch Became the Mastermind

Chapter 51

“The Duchy’s forces, aren’t they? There are guards in the castle as well.”

Piotr spoke up.

Given that the Si-on Duchy had a population nearing 200,000, it would reasonably have a force of at least 2,000 to 3,000 men, making his point valid.

“…The Duchy’s forces are scattered across various regions, brother. The troops around the Twin-headed Eagle Castle and its vicinity don’t even number 500. Even if we combine the forces sent by Count Pamel and Paloma…”

Yonas gritted his teeth, unable to finish the sentence.

As everyone grasped the gravity of the situation, the tent was enveloped in heavy silence.

“That’s why we intercept them ourselves.”

At Si-on’s words, Yonas, who had been hanging his head and trembling, looked up.

“Friel. The warriors of Gosan, Buksan, and Namsan will come with me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stelman.”

“Yes.”

Anticipating that he could finally engage in proper combat, Stelman straightened his shoulders with excitement.

“You will escort Piotr to the Duchy’s castle.”

“What? Wh-why…?”

Leaving him and his mercenary group out against 300 enemies?

Leaving aside the disappointment, this didn’t make tactical sense.

“Preventing those crossing through the forest is important, but so is preparing for any possible incident at the castle. I think it’s likely that incidents will occur simultaneously. That’s why you and your mercenaries are crucial.”

“Hmm. I will follow your orders.”

Reflecting on his impulsive judgment, Stelman quickly accepted, saluted, and exited the tent with Piotr.

“And…”

Si-on’s gaze fell on Yonas, who stood alone, looking as if he might crumble.

“Knight Longlive and Paloma’s forces will come with me. You too.”

“…!”

Si-on’s unwavering gaze pierced the startled Yonas.

“A younger brother cleans up the mess left by his older brother.”

“F-Founder…”

Yonas’s face turned pale in an instant, his trembling hands barely supporting him as he fell to his knees.

“Please, forgive him, Founder. Forgive my brother… forgive Paloma.”

Though he didn’t raise his voice for fear of others hearing, Yonas’s plea was heartfelt, as if he were coughing up blood.

Treason.

Even if they were in-laws, his brother had committed the disgraceful act of involving an external force.

“Forgiveness… Do you really seek forgiveness?”

Si-on’s voice was cold, like ice pressing against the nape of his neck, sending a shiver through Yonas.

“I asked you, Yonas. Do you truly wish for me to forgive?”

“I… I…”

In that brief moment, Yonas’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts.

But in the end, he had no choice but to speak.

“I wish… you would not forgive.”

As Si-on’s Yonas, not Paloma’s, he made his decision.

‘A pity, that one.’

Si-on looked down at Yonas’s quivering back.

Yonas had changed drastically from their first meeting. Or perhaps, Si-on had not fully understood his great-grandson’s true nature back then.

Now, however, he had come to understand at least a glimpse of Yonas’s true self.

‘Then I, too, should change my thinking.’

Si-on had already contemplated various possibilities but hadn’t made a decision.

But now, it was time to decide.

What if the decision was wrong?

Who cares?

He was not a perfect human.

If a wrong decision led to a bad outcome, he would rethink it then.

For now, he chose to trust his middle-aged great-grandson, who was holding back tears and shaking.

“Stand up.”

“Yes… yes…”

Si-on watched Yonas rise, his face flushed red, for a long while before speaking.

“I will make use of you.”

“…As you will, Founder.”

Having made his decision, just as Si-on had made his, Yonas answered willingly.

However, Yonas had no idea what kind of ‘decision’ the revered Founder had made.

* * *

The next morning.

The group split into two.

Led by Si-on, about twenty elven warriors from the three tribes, along with Yonas and Longlive, headed toward the Forest Without Echoes with the forces dispatched from Cheolsan.

A small delegation of elves and Cheolsan dwarves, along with Stelman’s mercenary group, proceeded toward the Duchy’s castle as initially planned.

“What’s going on? If Uncle is going, I should go too.”

Sirvan whined, but Yonas was firm.

“You will go with Piotr.”

“No, Uncle…”

“Sirvan.”

Thud.

Sirvan, who had been about to argue again, flinched.

Yonas, wearing a heavy expression that Sirvan had never seen before, placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

“No matter what happens, stay by Piotr’s side. You must.”

“…Huh? What do you mean?”

“Just do as you’re told. Remember, no matter what happens, stay by Piotr’s side. Don’t doubt him. Just follow.”

“Uncle…”

Under normal circumstances, Sirvan would have asked more questions or whined again, but this time, he couldn’t even think of doing so.

It would have been better if his uncle had scolded him sternly; seeing his usually lively uncle looking so weary and serious was unfamiliar and unsettling.

“I trust you.”

Pat, pat.

Sirvan felt an unexpected weight in Yonas’s light taps on his shoulder.

Though young and inexperienced, Sirvan had sensed that something significant was happening.

And he now knew that it involved not just him and his uncle, but possibly their entire family.

“Yes. I will do as you say.”

Thus, Sirvan replied earnestly, abandoning his usual light-heartedness.

Seeing his once naive nephew growing up, a short smile appeared on Yonas’s lips.

Though unmarried, he had always treated Sirvan as his own son.

There were other nephews, but Sirvan was the only one who, despite his mischievousness, still showed him affection.

“Everything will be fine. Now, go on.”

“…Yes. Uncle, you be safe too.”

“I will.”

Nodding deeply, Yonas pulled on the reins and rode toward where Si-on was.

With his senses beyond those of an ordinary human, Si-on overheard the entire conversation between his two descendants and smiled slightly.

“That boy is finally becoming an adult.”

“No, he’s still just a child.”

Yonas’s denial made it clear to Si-on what he was worried about, so he turned his gaze toward the ready elf warriors and Paloma’s forces.

“I know what’s troubling you.”

“…”

“Sirvan will be safe. And so will you.”

“Founder…”

Si-on looked at Yonas once more.

“You and Sirvan are my descendants.”

“…!”

Just one sentence.

But the weight and intensity of that statement made Yonas tremble.

“Do I… do I truly deserve to call myself your descendant?”

“Of course. You are a proud Si-on. So stand tall, Yonas Si-on.”

In response to Si-on, a living legend and an absolute existence, Yonas couldn’t help but feel his eyes redden as tears began to fall.

“What a child, acting your age.”

Si-on clicked his tongue at the tears of his middle-aged great-grandson.

“Sorry. I’m just so happy…”

Wiping his tears, Yonas smiled, overwhelmed by the joy of being acknowledged by the Founder he so deeply revered.

“Crying one moment, laughing the next…”

Si-on, barely suppressing a remark that would have undermined his dignity as the Founder, patted Yonas on the shoulder just as Yonas had done with Sirvan.

“Just remember, the ones we are about to face are enemies. Enemies who dare to invade this land.”

“As Si-on’s sword, I will fulfill my duty.”

Yonas’s tear-streaked eyes now glimmered with determination, his gaze burning like fire.

* * *

“How is the camp?”

“We set it up to stay within a 50-meter radius. As planned, the elves will take turns on guard.”

“Good. Hmph, nothing special.”

Sanders, a knight of Count Pamel’s territory and nephew to the Count, scoffed lightly.

In his early thirties, he belonged to the generation that only heard about the incidents in the Forest Without Echoes during their youth.

“This is so simple. The elders of our house are too fearful.”

Sanders couldn’t understand why the older generation of his family feared the forest.

Sure, it made sense to fear the forest—it was deep, dark, and dangerous.

Although only about 20 kilometers wide, it was filled with hills that rose roughly 100 meters high, winding and convoluted, which significantly slowed movement. A hill, even a low one, was still a hill.

Crossing one hill alone could take an entire day, with constant attacks from beasts and monsters.

It took at least 5-6 days, sometimes up to ten, to cross the forest’s mere 20 kilometers.

Indeed, in the past, the large forces of his family had suffered countless hardships, taking nearly ten days to traverse.

But things were different now.

“What about the elves? Any complaints?”

“They’re too quiet to tell if they have any complaints. But they seem to be earning their pay.”

“Just looking at them, you can tell they’re worth the money. And if we give them a good time, they’ll be even better, heh heh.”

The men chatting in Sanders’s tent were leaders of the mercenary bands hired by Count Pamel’s family.

The group comprised five leaders, each commanding between 30 and 80 mercenaries.

Though there had initially been considerable infighting among those from non-guild mercenary bands, outwardly, they were now unified.

Money.

A hefty reward could make even ravenous mercenaries appear united.

“Once more, I warn you not to mess with them. If you stir up trouble with the elves, I will hold you responsible, and you know what that means.”

“…”

The mercenary leaders, who had been indulging in dirty jokes, fell silent at once.

Even as hired men, they would often mouth off to most nobles, but the Count Pamel family was not just any nobility.

If they wanted to, the Count Pamel family could summon forces numbering in the thousands without needing mercenaries.

Even the knights and soldiers residing at the Count’s castle numbered in the hundreds, meaning mercenaries could be wiped out in a flash.

“Of course.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve made sure to drill it into my men.”

Sanders surveyed the mercenary leaders, who quickly switched their attitudes, with a satisfied grin.

“If you finish the job without causing trouble, you’ll get paid well. As you’ve already heard from the Count, there will be bonuses too.”

“As expected of a grand noble, so generous.”

“We’re looking forward to it, and so are our men. We’ll make sure to deliver.”

The mercenary leaders grinned, revealing their yellowed teeth.

“Well, since we’re in enemy territory, we can’t drink too much, but let’s have one light drink each.”

“Yes!”

Sanders took out some high-quality wine he had brought along, and the mercenary leaders cheered.

Despite losing a dozen men during the three-day march, the losses were within expectations, and there had been no particularly dangerous moments.

Tonight, too, they trusted the keen-eyed elves to keep watch, ensuring there would be no problems.

Hahaha!

As the wine made its rounds, the atmosphere grew even more relaxed.

Then, it happened.

Piiiik!

A sharp whistle cut through the night, piercing into the tent.

“Ahhhh!”

A scream followed right after.